Beth's Secrets
by closetfangirl77
Summary: Beth's been keeping a couple of secrets from Daryl. (Contains smut.)
1. Spilling Secrets

A/N: Takes place while Daryl and Beth are traveling alone. There is no kidnapping, and Daryl doesn't join up with Joe's group. I'm not sure how much time they've all spent on the road, so sixteen weeks is a guess. As for the idea itself, I'm not sure where it came from-maybe a dream.

Nausea churned in her guts, and the acidic burn of bile made its way up her esophagus. Beth didn't even try to stop it, knowing she would feel better when it was out. She heaved until her stomach was empty before leaning back to rest her butt on her calves.

"Damn, girl, you look awful." Daryl had stopped in the middle of gutting a rabbit to watch her. "That's the third time today."

She shrugged. "I guess rattlesnake don't agree with me." It was hard to find a clean patch of cloth on her torn T-shirt, but she managed by turning the hem inside out and dabbing at her mouth. She stole a glance at him after she'd cleaned up.

He was shaking his head, and she idly noted his hair needed a good trim. "That's the fourth day in a row, Beth. If I didn't know better, I'd think you was pregnant." His expression darkened, and he lifted his knife with an air of menace. "Did Zach knock you up?"

Her eyes widened at his question, along with the subtle violence she could sense in him. Even if he had, it wasn't like Daryl could do anything to him now. Rinsing her mouth again, she just shook her head, thankful when he let the subject drop.

###

Beth huddled in the sleeping bag, her body aching from exertion. The walking was no worse than usual, but she was hurting in her pelvis. It felt like the joints had separated. She didn't know if it was the same in a human, but she remembered reading about it in one of Daddy's veterinary books. It might be normal, but it sure hurt like hell.

Daryl grunted as he turned over in his sleeping bag. They were close together for shared warmth, and his chest pressed against her back. She closed her eyes with a whimper that he must have interpreted as pain. "You hurtin', girl? Some kinda woman troubles?"

Beth just nodded, surprised and moved when he started rubbing her lower back. "Thanks," she whispered. It didn't really help the pelvic pain, but it was nice to have his warm hand stroking her back, even through the sleeping bag.

"Had a girlfriend for a short time, and you'd'a thought she was dyin' each month. This used ta' help her."

Beth grimaced and scooted away, not liking the idea of him touching her the same way he had some nameless skank in his past. "I'm better now."

He whistled through his teeth. "Damn mood swings just about killed me too."

Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she started softly crooning to herself almost absently picking a lullaby her momma used to sing to her. Tears came to her eyes when she remembered her momma. Not that Walker in the barn, but her real momma. She could use some advice from her right now, and a big ol' hug from her daddy.

###

The periodic vomiting persisted for more than a week, and she saw Daryl grow more concerned as the days passed. "Next town, we're gonna find you some medicine, girl." She just nodded, knowing she wouldn't mind something to relieve the nausea, but not sure if she could take it. Still, it wouldn't hurt to look. She wouldn't mind a new bra either, to support her swollen breasts.

They came to a small one-horse blip on the map later that afternoon. It looked fairly well picked over, but they scavenged anyway. The small drugstore was right in the center of the main block of businesses that all shared connected entryways, so customers could pass right through to the next one. She grasped her knife as she followed Daryl into the dim interior. Beth wished she had the strength to use his crossbow as she stood guard while he lifted the metal shutters protecting the windows.

With them rolled up, more light entered the room, and she blinked. The familiar moan of Walkers set her teeth on edge, and she adjusted her stance to press her side against Daryl's as three shambling corpses came into view. Daryl got a clean bolt through the hulking male's eye, and Beth managed to take out the smallest female by driving her knife through the top of its head. The girl had probably died younger than her own eighteen years. She suppressed her pity, knowing it did no good and only served as a distraction.

Black fluid sprayed her shirt, making her curse. Even in the midst of putting down the Walker he'd been grappling with, Daryl laughed. "What would Herschel say if he'd heard such language from ya', girl?"

It was the first time Daryl had mentioned her father in such a casual way since his execution, and it felt good. Her heart lifted a bit at the reminder of the good times before The Governor took out their home. "He'd tan my hide."

"Maybe I should do the same."

The thought of Daryl's large, rough palm on her bare bottom made her stomach quiver, and moisture pooled between her thighs. She didn't guess she'd mind a spanking if it came from his hand. Clearing her throat, she said, "I'm eighteen. I can cuss if I wanna."

He made a scoffing sound. "Girl, that wouldn't hardly cussin' at all. You need to expand y'all's vocabulary."

She rolled her eyes. "Didn't you say you was goin' to check out the hardware store next door?" At his nod, she asked, "Do you want me to come with you? If not, I have some…personal things to find here."

He looked undecided. "Well, all right, but only 'cause there's a connecting door. I'll leave it open, and you keep your eyes peeled for Walkers. You yell like there ain't no tomorrow if you get into trouble. Okay?"

She nodded. "You do the same, and I'll come runnin'."

Daryl smirked at her hunting knife with the sharply serrated edge. She'd found it a few towns ago and had taken it despite his mockery of the pink camouflage handle. "I'll keep it in mind, girl."

Beth parted ways with him a bit fearfully, though he was only going to be a few yards away, in the store next door. She kept her eyes open, as he'd instructed, but saw no more Walkers. However, she did find a small clothing section that hadn't been too ransacked. There were no bras, unfortunately, but she thought maybe the tightly woven cotton undershirt tank tops might work. They'd sure be a lot softer than the scratchy lace bra she'd been busting out of for the past couple of weeks.

Keeping her knife within easy reach on the closest shelf, Beth stripped off her T-shirt before undoing the bra with a sigh of relief. Her nipples burned, and she spent a moment rubbing them to ease the ache. She decided that the tank tops would have to do, because there was no way in hell she was putting that old bra back on again. She was still cradling her breasts when angry words made her freeze.

"Beth, what the hell?"

###

Daryl had made quick work of the hardware shop, mainly because someone else had picked it over real good, and there wasn't a Walker in sight. His prizes had consisted of a package of matches and a screwdriver with part of the handle missing. After shoving them in his satchel, he'd come back to find Beth.

To find Beth without her top on. Naked from the waist up, holding her breasts like she was some damned centerfold he used to stare at in the old days while jerking off. The familiarity of the sight had caused a hard-on, even though it was Beth. Being honest with himself, maybe because it was Beth.

He'd stood frozen in shock as he'd drunk in the sight of her feminine curves. It took him a moment to realize Beth's curves were lusher than they'd once been. In particular, her stomach was gently rounded, and her breasts looked too large for her petite frame, even squashed in her hands like that. He spoke without thinking. "Beth, what the hell?"

Daryl strode over to her, not letting her put on the top she had hastily reached for. Her glorious breasts spilled in front of his eyes for a minute before she folded the cloth over herself, but he didn't allow the pink areolas and berry-sized nipples to distract him. "You're pregnant." Very fucking pregnant, at least far enough to start showing.

She glared at him a minute before her lips trembled. "Yeah."

Senses returned, and he stepped back, turning his head so she could get dressed. When he looked again, she wore an oversized black T-shirt, but he could still see the subtle stretching over her baby bump, now that he knew it was there. "You told me you wasn't pregnant."

Beth narrowed her eyes. "I did not. You asked me if Zach knocked me up."

He tossed a hand in the air with frustration. "And you shook yer head no. That's the same as tellin' me you wasn't."

She wrapped her arms around herself, as though feeling defensive. "I wasn't lying. Zach didn't get me pregnant."

He stared at her belly. "Then what the hell is that?"

"Not Zach's," she said softly.

Daryl's eyes widened. If there'd been anything more shocking than finding out she was pregnant, it was learning her boyfriend, the only man that he'd known she'd been with for months, hadn't been the father. Beth wasn't the sleeping-around type. His hand reached for his knife without thought. "Which sumbitch hurt you? Was it someone at the prison? Someone we trusted?" He felt sick imagining another scenario. "Was it those bastards with the Governor?"

Beth shook her head. "No, it wasn't them."

Rage bubbled in him as a sharp dart of betrayal shot through him. He hadn't liked everyone at the prison, but he'd thought they were all good enough folks not to do something so terrible. "Someone from the prison forced you?"

She chewed her lip. "No, not exactly."

He pinched the bridge of his nose in response to a headache forming. "How do ya' mean, not exactly? You was either raped or you wasn't. Which is it?"

###

Beth stared at Daryl, biting her lip some more, until she could taste blood. That was a hard question to answer, and the main reason she hadn't tried to bring up the topic of conversation before now. She'd known at some point she'd have to tell Daryl about her pregnancy, but the awkward questions that would follow had made her reticent.

"It wasn't rape. It weren't planned or nothin', and it all just sort of happened." He looked even more confused, and she sighed. "The…man I was with was at the prison. I was real worried about him, so I went to check on him."

She closed her eyes, remembering how she had slipped into his sleeping space to find him unconscious. At first, she'd been worried he'd come down with the sickness, but she'd soon seen the cause of his passed out state. A large, empty bottle of some cheap alcohol she didn't recognize lay beside him. She'd understood what had led him to drink. Everyone being sick, Karen and David's deaths, the fallout from that…it was no wonder he'd indulged in a way she'd never seen him lose control before.

It was nice just looking at him. She'd had feelings for the man for a while now, even though she knew he didn't see her as much more than the girl who cooked and minded Judith. She'd been okay with loving him from afar. It was kinda like the crush she'd had on her sophomore chemistry teacher, only with Walkers and death around every corner.

Tempted by his lack of awareness, Beth had sat down on his bedroll, looking her fill at his face, softened in sleep. There was something innocent and vulnerable to be found there, unguarded while he slept. During the day, he kept it all hidden, though she'd seen an occasional glimpse of it here and there.

Her fingers itched to touch his face, and she let her hand rise to stroke his hair, before trailing her fingers down his forehead, over his nose, and to his firm lips. Sighing his name, she'd stroked the contours of his lips, savoring his moist breath caressing her fingertips.

Acting like an idiot, she had peeked over her shoulder to verify they were alone before giving in to the temptation to bend over him and touch her lips gently to his. She'd known then it was stupid, but had truly thought he was too unconscious to respond.

It had been a shock when his lips molded to hers, at first gentle. It had kept her from jerking away and leaving his sleeping space. And then things had taken an unexpected turn. He had kissed her thoroughly, the way a man kisses a woman he wants, not the weak way Jimmy had kissed, or the coaxing kisses Zach had given her as they got better acquainted.

His hands had been just as firm as his mouth, pulling her down on top of him. Beth had gasped at the feel of his hard chest against her breasts, at the way his erection had pushed into her stomach. As soon her lips parted, his tongue swept inside, making her head spin and quieting the voice of common sense in the back of her mind.

His facial hair was raspy against her soft cheeks, but she enjoyed the sensation. It hadn't taken long for her, an enthusiastic pupil, to reciprocate the dart and thrust of his tongue against hers. Beth could have spent hours just kissing him.

He'd had other ideas, his hands tugging and pulling at her clothes as he murmured sexy things to her. Naughty things she'd never imagined a man could say. If someone had told her what a man might whisper in the heat of passion, she would have expected to feel disgusted by the crude language. Instead, it made her hot, soaking her panties and causing her to arch mindlessly against him.

"Hang on, girl," he'd muttered, his fingers dealing with her skinny jeans and tugging them down, along with her underwear. Beth had cried out with shock, pleasure, and maybe a bit of shame when his calloused finger plunged inside her wet heat, stroking her clit and spreading her slippery fluids. He'd touched her with confidence and experience, bringing innocent Beth an orgasm in no time. "Damn, you're hot. So responsive." His praise had mingled with the afterglow of her release to leave her suffused with warmth.

It had seemed perfectly natural to grasp his shaft in her small hands when he'd shed his clothes, to touch and stroke him with curiosity. The way he'd hummed and bucked his hips filled her with a sense of her feminine powers. When he'd first pushed her hand away, she'd protested. "I wanna touch you," she'd whispered shyly.

"Let me be inside you, girl." He'd grasped her hips and probed her entrance with his erection, pushing in gently, as though he'd known she was a virgin. Beth had bitten her lip as he'd stretched her slowly. There had been a flash of pain, but the gentle thrust of his hips, as his hand ghosted over her clitoris, had soothed it away.

Beth had given in to instinct and matched his pace, thrusting and grinding against him. She'd clutched his chest hairs, making him hiss with pain even as he rocked harder against her. She lost track of time and didn't know if they had made love for minutes or hours before her sheath tightened around him, and she squeezed her thighs, locking them around his, crying out his name as she climaxed. He'd held her tightly, with what seemed like fierce possessiveness, as his cock spasmed, and he'd spilled his seed inside her.

She had lain against him for a long time following their joining, listening to his heart racing against her ear. His hand had tangled in her hair, holding her close as though clinging to her. It made sense, considering he'd lost just about everyone or everything he'd ever cared about. Even when he returned to his unconscious state, she'd stayed a while longer, reveling in the experience, in knowing she was now a woman in every sense. His woman.

Finally, as dawn streaked across the sky, she had slipped from his grasp to dress and go back to her cell, wanting to avoid any whispers or confrontations, knowing her sister wouldn't approve. No one would probably be thrilled, but she figured her daddy might support them, since he respected her lover. Plus, it would be a bit hypocritical of him to say the age difference was wrong when he'd been several years older than Beth's momma.

Beth had waited with anticipation all throughout that day to have a moment alone with him. She'd caught his gaze a couple of times, giving him a sweet, secretive smile that seemed to confuse him. As the day wore on, she'd been the one feeling confused, especially after she had sat beside him at dinner, and he hadn't done more than nod at her as he ate the beans and cornbread like a man who'd been starving.

When he'd left without a word, she'd been hurt. Determined to confront him, to find out why he was pretending like last night hadn't happened, she had followed him onto watch and found out why he was acting that way.

"Well?"

Daryl's angry prompting abruptly returned her to the present. "We didn't plan it, and then he didn't remember it."

He scoffed. "You didn't buy that bullshit, did ya', girl? Ain't no man gonna forget being with you."

She glared at him. "I bought that shit because it was obvious. When we talked the next night, he told me had a headache, and he'd been a damned fool to drink so much." Daryl's eyes widened, and she pressed on. "He told me he'd been worried about Carol, pissed at Rick for just decidin' to banish her, and scared for all the sick people at the prison."

"Beth—"

She was too riled up to stop now. "The man who'd taken my virginity had been drinking himself stupid over another woman, and he didn't remember what we'd done. It sure seemed genuine to me, but was it? Why don't you tell me, Daryl, if it was all a lie? Did you really forget fucking me, or was it just a load of horseshit you sold me?" Tears streamed from her eyes, and she stormed away, too angry to be around him right then.

It had hurt that he'd made love to her without remembering. It had been awful that she couldn't tell him she was pregnant, that she'd had to hold on to that secret for the past sixteen weeks, but it enraged her that he was now calling her naïve for believing him. She knew to her core that he had forgotten, because she was just Beth. Nothing special. No one he would have looked twice at if she hadn't gone into the tower to check on him. If she hadn't initiated the kiss, she wouldn't have ended up with Daryl Dixon as her first lover. She couldn't regret that, but she hated the circumstances.

Her first time should have been with someone who loved her as much as she loved him. Since they had made a baby, it seemed doubly wrong that their encounter had been little more than itch-scratching for Daryl, who'd been too drunk because of Carol being missing to realize he'd taken a virgin. Whatever his feelings for, or relationship with Carol, he'd been thinking about another woman when he had sex with Beth.

###

Daryl stared after Beth, his jaw hanging open like a dumbass redneck. As she'd spoken, the memories had started to return. Flashes of images came to him—the soft glide of her skin against his, the full roundness of her breasts in his palms as she had ridden him, and the throaty way she'd cried his name when she came. Dammit. He had deflowered Beth Greene and didn't remember more than the very basic details.

He shook his head, wanting to deny it, but knowing she hadn't lied. His own vague memories confirmed that. He had made a baby with that young woman. Not only that, but he'd hurt her, leaving her thinking she meant nothing to him, and that he'd been thinking about Carol while having sex with her.

God, he wished he could remember the particulars better. Even with it all being sketchy, he was absolutely sure he hadn't been dwelling on Carol with Beth sitting on his cock. Carol was his friend. She was like a sister. Sometimes even a mother. It was complicated with them, but not because of sex. There was no spark between them.

Not like there was with Beth. Hell, did she really think he hadn't noticed her? He was a dumb redneck, but he wasn't addled or blind. Of course he'd noticed her coltish slimness and her youthfulness. He'd noticed how tender she was with Judith, and he'd noticed the way she'd snuggled up with that Zach. Seeing her let another man touch her the way he wanted to had left him frustrated and angry.

No way in hell would he have ever acted on it though. Sleeping with a teenage virgin was the kind of shit Merle would have pulled. Hell, his own piece of shit father had liked 'em young too. More than once, he'd walked in to their trailer to find his father fucking some girl just a few years older than Daryl. One time, he'd taken a severe beating when he'd pried his dad off a clearly unwilling girl. She'd dropped by to get high with Merle, not get raped by his father. He'd gotten her out and taken the whipping with the belt with pride, knowing he'd saved her from about the worst thing someone could do to another person.

Now, he was disgusted with himself, thinking he'd taken advantage of an innocent girl in a drunken state. Spitting out the sour taste in his mouth, he followed her, not sure how, but knowing he had to make amends.

She stood with her back to him, her shoulders stiff, as he stopped a step behind her. "Beth, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry for taking you like that, and for not rememberin' it." He touched her shoulder gently. "I'm sorry for givin' you a baby when I ain't got no idea how to be a dad." He let his guard down a bit as he put his hands around her upper arms, pulling her rigid back against him. "I s'pose I should say I'm sorry for fuckin' you, and I am, in a way." She sighed as he stroked her arms. "I'm sorry it was so animalistic, and I was drunk. I'm sorry I didn't treat you the way you deserved."

He turned her to face him, pleased when she didn't resist too much. "But I ain't sorry I had you. I want you again." He felt just like a damned virgin himself as he blushed, having a hard time meeting her gaze. "I been wanting you for a while, ever since you started takin' care of Little Asskicker. It made me see you in a different light than just a little girl."

Her lips trembled. "So, what do we do now?"

Daryl curled his lip. "Fuck if I know. I ain't never gotten a girl pregnant before, especially with no recollection."

Beth's pink tongue traced her mouth, as though she was nervous. "Maybe we should refresh your memory?"

He pretended to give it some thought. "Maybe so, soon as we find someplace safe and clean, where we can do it proper." It felt natural to slip his arm around her waist, his other hand cupping her slightly rounded stomach. Finding someplace safe was now a priority. No way was he risking taking his girl and their baby to Terminus right now, without knowing more about it. For now, they'd hunker down, find somewhere secure—as protected as anything could be these days—and concentrate on turning themselves into a couple. Thank goodness he had at least a few more months to figure out how to be a partner for Beth and a father for their kid. Those prospects scared him more than facing a whole herd of Walkers in his underpants, with just Beth's girlie knife for defense.


	2. Daryl's Introspection

Beth sighed with annoyance when Daryl grabbed her arm for about the tenth time that afternoon to keep her from walking forward. "It's fine."

"Just bein' cautious."

"Dammit, Daryl, I'm pregnant, not stupid. I ain't goin' to walk into a Walker or slide down loose gravel or any of the other things you been watching out for most of the day." She softened her tone, putting a hand on his shoulder that he didn't shrug off. "I appreciate it, but nothing's changed from this morning."

He hunched his shoulders, looking defensive. "Everything's changed, girl. I didn't know you was knocked up this mornin'. Didn't know I was gonna be a father." He seemed angry. "Don't know how I'm gonna do it, how to take care of you and him. Just pissin' you off," he muttered, turning slightly away from her.

Tears came to her eyes, and she attributed them to the raging hormones. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at ya'. The hovering is driving me crazy, but I do understand it." He stiffened a bit when she put her arms around his waist, hugging his back, but didn't move away. Beth rubbed her cheek against his jacket. "We're both going to have to figure out what to do and how to act. I'll try to be less prickly if you can be just a bit less overprotective."

Slowly, he turned, putting an awkward arm around her shoulder. "I'll try, but I ain't promisin'." Pulling her closer, he rested his chin on the top of her head. "Gotta admit that knowin' you're carrying my baby makes me real protective. Wish I could wrap you in a pillow or somethin' and keep you safe from this shitty world."

Beth leaned into his embrace, thrilled to be allowed to touch him the way she'd been longing to for weeks, since that night in the prison. The night he'd forgotten. Suddenly, she groaned, making him stiffen. Daryl's arms fell from her, and he brought up the crossbow in one smooth motion, clearly looking for the danger. She giggled. "Sorry. I gotta pee again."

"Well, get to it." He stepped a few feet away to give her the illusion of privacy, while still providing safety. Beth squatted to do her business, longing for the days on the farm, when there had been a flushing toilet. Even the prison had offered running water, thanks to one of the refugees hooking up a system of boilers and cisterns that ran on gravity and saved their precious generators. Funny how you missed the little things, she thought.

When she'd finished, she stood up. "Daryl, if we're going to stop somewhere for a while, do you think we might be able to find a place with a real bathroom?"

He grunted. "Maybe, but that ain't important. What we need is thick walls."

Rolling her eyes, she fell into step beside him again. "A girl can dream."

Daryl snorted. "Dream all you want. I'll handle the reality."

###

They walked throughout the afternoon. Daryl didn't want to tire her out, so they made camp at least an hour than they would have BEFORE. For the past few years, there had been two phases in his life. BEFORE and AFTER. BEFORE used to mean before the damned Walkers and the end of the world. Now, it meant BEFORE BABY. Before he'd known about his kid in her belly, about having fucked her without it leaving much memory in his whiskey-pickled brain. Now they were in AFTER, and he was still feeling just as clueless about how to proceed as he had that morning.

Beth seemed just fine with AFTER, and she snuggled up to him like they'd been an old married couple for years. He put his arm around her, holding her as she dozed off and started snoring something awful. It felt good to have her in his arms, but strange too. It wasn't that he hadn't imagined holding her before—usually with a lot more detail than just holding as he jerked off—but he'd never thought it would really happen. Just didn't feel real.

The bump of her belly against his side felt plenty real though, making Daryl feel shaky and a bit sweaty. What the hell was he gonna do with a kid? He loved Little Asskicker, and she was sweet as all hell, but Rick was the one who had the responsibility of doing the daddy things. Daryl hadn't ever planned to have kids, seeing what kind of shitty people his genes tended to produce, and he sure hadn't ever expected to have to help raise one up in more than an honorary uncle capacity.

Not that he'd even think about leaving it all to Beth. Maybe at one point in his life, if some girl had told him he'd knocked her up, Daryl would have rolled out of town in a blink, never looking back. He didn't like to think he would have done that, but the man he'd used to be…well, it was a possibility. Now, the thought was abhorrent, especially since it was Beth carrying his baby. Leaving wasn't an option. He just wished he knew what to do, how to be the right kind of man to take care of Beth and their son.

Or daughter. Hell, that was even worse. Girls were more vulnerable to the evils of the world. Always had been, even before the Walkers. That didn't mean they couldn't kick ass or watch out for themselves. Michonne was proof of that. It just meant his girl would need more watching and protecting. Didn't it? He didn't know, having never spent much time around women of any age once his mother burned her dumb ass up.

At least Beth was a girl. Woman. She'd have a better idea what their daughter needed, and he'd just take his cues from her. Wasn't like following someone hadn't been second nature to him most of his life. At least in the AFTER, he was following decent folks, like Rick and now the girl beside him.

She turned slightly, enough to muffle her snoring, and he finally managed to turn off some of his loud thoughts. Daryl held her, his hand on her belly, and relaxed. The can alarms he'd strung around their makeshift camp should alert him to danger. No way was he waking her up to take a watch the way they'd been doing. His woman needed her rest to grow their baby. That thought wasn't nearly as scary as it had been when his mind had been racing. It actually left him with a pleasant glow as he drifted off to sleep.


	3. White Trash Brunch

Chapter Three

It was two days later before they came across a house that offered some sanctuary. The day had started badly, with Beth stepping in a rusted old trap some irresponsible asshat had left in the forest. She'd hobbled along as best as she could, until her darn pride had finally given way to common sense. Daryl carried her on his back like she was a young'un, though her sweet breasts pressed against him left no doubt she was a woman. Neither did the slight bulge of the baby. The firm little mound gave him a warm feeling, having it nestled against his back.

They traipsed through a graveyard, with Beth commenting idly, "These places used to creep me out, but I'm kinda glad now that there's at least one place where the dead stay down."

Daryl readjusted her, intent on reaching the house attached to the mortuary without putting her down again. He'd never admit it to her, but she was heavier than he'd expected. Either that, or he was just a tired ol' sack of a man. Good thing he'd run out of cigarettes since the prison. Kind of forced him to quit, and when he'd come across some on a dead body yesterday, he'd been only briefly tempted. The thought of smoking around a pregnant lady turned his stomach, and he'd left them on the road.

The house was solid from the outside, at least two stories. The white paint looked a bit faded and chipped, and a spot on the stairs sagged as he stepped on it. A swing tilted a bit to the side, but looked secure enough, so he set her down beside it. "Sit your cute little fanny there and wait for me ta' come back for ya', girl."

He didn't give her an alternative option. There wasn't one. The odds of an injured, pregnant Beth making it out of here without him were too grim to consider. So whatever was in the house, he had to face it and survive it.

Beth held her girlie knife at the ready, her eyes scanning the area. With an approving nod, he checked the front door. Locked, of course, but that wasn't an obstacle for a man with his childhood. He could have picked this lock easier than his nose by the time he was six, thanks to Merle's fine tutelage.

Once the lock clicked, he pushed the door in carefully, allowing for a full view of the foyer. Daryl tapped his crossbow against the doorjamb and whistled loudly. A faint groan replied, and he crept in silently, following the moan of the undead. He came to a room at the end of the hall, clearly set up for an invalid. The Walker in the hospital bed seemed to have once been a woman, but it was hard to tell with those nasty sumbitches. "Dragger's more like it for ya'." The thing must have been paralyzed from the waist down in life, because only the top half was wiggling, the bony fingers grasping greedily for him.

Daryl dispatched it with his knife before moving on, closing that door firmly behind him. The remaining rooms were clear until he got to the chapel. A gaunt Walker greeted him when he opened the ornate wooden door, grasping his coat. "The fuck. Get off me." Turning his head to avoid geek splatter, he fired a bolt up through its chin before dragging the corpse out of the chapel. It wasn't any religious feelings on his part. He didn't find the place particularly sacred or nothin', but he'd seen the piano and figured Beth might want to play it. Couldn't do that with the Walker stinking up the place.

The rest of the house was clear, including the second floor. A forlorn air of neglect hung about the interior, but it was one of the more comfortable places he'd been for a long time. Daryl went out briefly to tell Beth she could come in before setting to the task of dragging the Walkers outside into the backyard.

"It's a shame," said Beth, watching from the back porch, where he'd made her sit on a faded Adirondack chair.

He wiped his forehead with a bandana after he piled the crippled walker atop the thin one. "What's that?"

"Oh, we're in a funeral home. Must be a crematorium around here, but I wouldn't know how to operate it."

He shrugged. "Me neither, and it probably needs power or somethin'." A good douse from the bucket of embalming fluid he'd found in the preparation area, followed by a match, were efficient options too.

Afterward, he washed at an old well in the side yard, pleased to find the hand pump still worked, though it would need a bit of maintenance. As long as the well wasn't about to run dry, they'd be set for a while. When he returned to the porch, Beth was gone, making his heart jump into his throat. "Beth? Where are ya'?"

She came to the screen door a moment later, waving him on in. "Come see what I found."

Daryl scowled as he followed her. "Don't go runnin' off next time."

She giggled. "I hardly ran anywhere. More like shuffled, and it was just to the next room."

He shook his head, sending shaggy strands flying. "Still don't like it none. You need to stay where I put ya'."

Hand on her hip, she said, "I don't know whether to laugh or be offended, Daryl."

With a shrug, letting her decide, he changed the subject. "What'd ya' find?"

She opened the cabinet proudly, showing him two full shelves of food. "Ta da." Beth reached out for a can of something, blowing off the accumulated dust with an adorable little sneeze. "Everything's a bit dirty, just like the rest of the house. Lots of dust. You can tell no one's been here for a while." Tilting her head, she read the label. "It hasn't expired."

"Damn, this is a feast." He sorted through the items. "Peanut butter and jelly, diet soda, and pigs' feet. That's a white trash brunch right there."

She laughed, helping him carry several things to the table, limping all the way. Daryl resisted the urge to fuss over her, letting her open cans and jars. "I even found real plates." Grimacing, she said, "I'm not sure they aren't still a bit dusty. The towel in the drawer wasn't too clean neither."

He shrugged. "Dirt don't hurt."

They started feasting in companionable silence, both too busy stuffing their faces for a few minutes to talk. Daryl had a mouthful of jelly when he looked up at the wrong moment. Beth had a dollop of peanut butter on her plate and was currently scooping a wide swath through it with the pig's foot in her hand. "That's just nasty."

She took a big bite, closing her eyes with clear delight. "Tastes pretty good to me. The baby likes it too. He kicked me."

Daryl's eyes widened. "You can feel him already?" At her shy nod, he had to fold his hands into fists to resist the urge to reach out and to feel for himself. "Think I could feel him yet?"

She easily read through his forced casualness, judging by her expression. "I don't know, but you can try…after I finish eatin'."

"You want some grape jelly to dribble on top, girl?" He was only joking, but shuddered when she nodded. Daryl parted with a spoonful of the precious grape goo, feeling almost too nauseated to watch her scarf down the disgusting combination. Of course, he'd been livin' on snakes, squirrels, and rabbits too long to truly lose his appetite.

A/N: Obviously, there are some elements from the show. I'm borrowing what I like and leaving the rest. In this version, the mortuary has been abandoned for a while, and it isn't going to be a trap (or some rest station/ceremonial place for a bunch of kooky cultists worshipping the dead, which is my theory on who took Beth in the show).


	4. Refresher Course

If smut offends thee, scroll on by. ;-)

After they'd finished eating and cleaning up the best they could with a pail of water Daryl hauled in from the well, Beth made another discovery that had her squealing with excitement. "Look at all this." She stood in front of an open door leading into a pantry filled with food. "This is like a paradise."

"Don't know. Depends on if they got any beans 'n weenies." He elbowed her gently. "Wonder what kind of nasty crap you'd put with those?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "I'm growing a new person, so I can eat whatever I want."

He put his arm around her, surprised by how natural it felt to hug her. "You sure can, baby. Just don't offer ta' share."

She snuggled against him. "That's the first time you called me anything 'cept girl or Beth."

His face warmed from embarrassment, and he was glad she couldn't see it, cuddled with her back against his chest. "Do ya' want me to stop?"

She shook her head. "Nah, I like it. Not sure what to call you though. You ain't much of a honey or a sweetie."

"Stick with asshole."

Beth giggled as she stiffened. "Oh, he's kickin'. You wanna feel?" Without waiting for his affirmation, she took his palm and pressed it to her stomach.

Daryl held his breath, waiting, but felt nothing. "Guess he's gonna be a Dixon through and through. Ain't even born yet and already a stubborn cuss."

"Come on." Still holding his hand, she pulled him behind her into the fancy sitting room of the funeral home, pushing him down onto a velvet couch before climbing on his lap, bold as could be.

Daryl grunted as she shifted around, elbowing him in the solar plexus in the process. When she'd settled, she laid across his lap, her legs stretched out in front of her, and his hand resting on her bare belly. She played leapfrog with his palm for a few minutes, shifting his hand here and there across the small bulge. Finally, Daryl felt the little guy (or gal) kick against his hand. It was a fluttery tapping sort of feeling, and it made him feel fluttery on the inside too. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and his throat was thick. He coughed to clear it as he ran his hand over her stomach slowly again, this time on his own direction, desperately wanting to feel that magical sensation another time.

It was only when Beth moaned softly that he realized his touch was having a different effect on her. Her lids had drooped, and her mouth was parted softly. The atmosphere changed in a second, just like an electric current hovered around them. He swallowed again, nervous.

It wasn't that he didn't want Beth. 'Course he did. Just not remembering being with her before, and not having much experience with lovemaking, left him apprehensive. He'd fucked plenty of girls—mostly one-night stands or druggies who'd do anything for another hit—but his skills at being tender and gentle were mighty lacking. He didn't even know if she'd enjoyed it last time. "Did ya' like it when we was together before?"

She smiled, a sensual pulling of her lips that invited kissing. "Mm hmm."

That was something, at least. Moving slowly, feeling about as awkward as the first time he'd touched a woman—his friend's mother, who'd offered him something no fifteen-year-old boy would turn down—he moved the shirt bunched under her breasts higher, slipping his hand under the tank top she wore in lieu of a bra. Beth gasped softly when he trailed his finger across one of her swollen nipples, arching her back for more.

He worried about his fingers being too rough, the pads too calloused, to touch such tender flesh, but she seemed okay. More than okay when he gently tugged the nipple between his fingers, making her moan. He had to draw on all his self-control to keep from tearing off her shirt and going at it like an animal. His woman deserved better than that.

Needing to see what he was touching, Daryl folded the fabric up under her armpits so he could gaze at her generous breasts. They were too large for her frame now, but he wasn't complaining. He carefully squeezed one while grasping the other to run the rough pad of his thumb across the rigid peak.

"Mmm, Daryl." Beth scooted up a bit, sitting enough to take off her own shirts. "Could you…" She trailed off, looking bashful.

He pushed down his own anxiety. "What'd ya' want, girl? You just tell me, and I'll do it."

Her cheeks were bright red. "It's awkward."

He grinned. "Sure is. I feel like a teenager again."

"Makes us even then." She twisted to face him, her hands tugging at his vest. "You're wearing too many clothes."

"I was thinkin' the same 'bout you." With regret, he pushed her off him gently, helping her to her feet so he could stand up. It was nerve-racking to undress in front of her. Normally, he kept most of his clothes on, as did his partner. It wouldn't be fair to ask her to strip if he wasn't willing though.

The hardest thing for Daryl was taking off the shirt. The rest of the clothes didn't bother him. He had a good-sized package, from what his previous lovers had said, and the hard life they lived kept him fit. He was close to forty, but knew his body looked a decade younger, at least. It was the idea of baring his scars, which felt akin to baring his soul, that had his hands shaking on the buttons.

Beth stood before him in nothing, her petite frame a pale, curvaceous wonderland that looked somehow right on her slender frame. He'd never found pregnant women particularly arousing, and had been disgusted by Merle's persistence in trying to seduce every pregnant woman they'd come across, but he had a vague understanding suddenly of why his brother had found them attractive. It was mostly Beth herself who made the look appealing, but he couldn't deny her newly rounded curves and fuller breasts made him ache to touch her. Something about knowing he was the one who'd made her that way filled him with pride and pure lust.

"You need help with that?" She came closer, twining her fingers in the sleeveless plaid shirt.

He put his hands over hers, stopping her. "I…got some scars, Beth. You don't wanna look at 'em."

She frowned up at him. "I want to see all of you, Daryl. Not just the pretty parts." A small grin flashed across her mouth. "I already know you got a temper, but you can be awful sweet too. It's important to me to know everything about you, good and bad."

With a sigh of surrender, he dropped his hands, letting her unsnap the shirt and push it off him. To his relief, she didn't go straight for the area making him self-conscious. Instead, she kissed his chest and stomach while her hands explored the lines and ripples bisecting the flesh of his back. He tried to stay still as stone when she moved around behind him. Her soft cry made him flinch, and he wanted to pull away, to hide the ravaged flesh from her.

Only her gentle hands spanning his waist kept him still, and he shuddered at the first light touch of her tongue tracing one of the larger furrows. It wasn't a sexual feeling, but it was still a release. Having her touch him so carefully, clearly signaling her acceptance of the old wounds that were such a part of him, made him feel lighter.

The shy touch of her mouth against his side brought his attention solely back to Beth, and what they were doing. When her destination became clear as she moved around to face him again, he put his hand on her shoulder. "No."

She looked up, clearly confused. "I thought you'd want me to?"

He shook his head. "Maybe soon, but I ain't even kissed you, girl. Least not that I remember."

Her expression cleared. "Oh." She stood completely upright, stretching on her toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

Daryl snorted. "You call that kissin'?" He scooped her into his arms, making her squeal, as he brought his mouth down over hers. The kiss was demanding and possessive, staking his claim on her. Apparently, she felt the same, because she kissed him with equal vigor.

Their mouths didn't part as he backed toward the couch, sitting down blindly with her still in his arms. Beth arranged herself across his lap, her thighs straddling his. He groaned when she raked her nails across his nipples. She broke the kiss to move down to his chest, flicking her tongue across the nub she had just scratched lightly. Daryl didn't think any woman had ever touched him that way before. It surprised him how much he liked it.

He caressed her back before grasping her hips to bring her closer to his erection. He wasn't going to take her yet, but couldn't deny himself the sweet torture of rubbing the head against her wet cleft. "Love how wet you are," he said, thrusting lightly against her. She rubbed against him, taking his shaft inside a bit. Daryl gritted his teeth to keep from sinking all the way.

He slipped his hand between them to find her pulsing clit, stroking her with small circles. The breathless little moans coming from her, coupled with her writhing, made him put a hand against her lower back to still her. "If you don't stop that, I'm gonna take you rough, and I don't wanna do that."

She tossed back her head, hair spilling down her shoulders. "What about what I want, Daryl?" Before he could stop her, she sat down, taking him fully inside her. She was so slick that her body offered no resistance to the sudden intrusion.

He cursed as she rocked her hips, rotating around his shaft. "Slow down, girl. We got all day."

"We can do slow later." Beth squeezed her sheath.

"Aw, fuck." His body overruled his good intentions, and he began thrusting into her hard, fast, and deep. She cried out his name and clutched his shoulders. He winced at the way her nails dug into his skin as he caressed her clitoris, all the while thrusting inside her.

Their gazes locked as he surged inside her as deeply as he could. They paused, just staring at each other. Daryl could lose himself in her pretty blue eyes. Damn if she didn't make him feel like a poet or somethin'. His body could communicate better than his clumsy words, so he let what he was feeling shine in his eyes. Whatever she read there made her rock urgently against his hand and contract around him. The convulsions of wet heat from her orgasm triggered his own, and he spilled himself inside her, calling her name with fierce need as he did so.

Holding her close, he vowed nothing would part him from this girl unless she came to her senses and decided she didn't want a man twice her age. Otherwise, he'd be following her around like a loyal ol' hound for the rest of his days. It was as close as he'd come to loving anyone ever, aside from Merle—and that wasn't even near the same. Feeling it and saying it were two different things though, and he didn't try to blurt out what he was thinking. Knowing him, he'd just fuck it up anyway, leaving her pissed off or somethin'.

###

Daryl spent the next day doing routine maintenance while Beth cleaned. Later that afternoon, he opened the door of the freestanding building behind the house, discovering the former occupants had used it as a garage-cum-storage area. He was pleased to find a modest hatchback and an older truck. A quick look revealed both would need some work to run again, but that was to be expected after sitting a couple of years.

He returned in time for dinner, finding Beth had turned canned meat and tomato sauce into a tasty spaghetti topper. After dinner, they went to the chapel, and she sang a few songs. Normally, Daryl didn't care much for music either way, and he'd sometimes found Beth's insistence on bursting into song perplexing and a tad annoying. Tonight, it hit the spot, and he stretched out on a pew and let it wash over him.

Afterwards, they went to a room on the first floor that offered a large window for a backup escape, in dire circumstances. The loving was long and gentle this time, the way he'd meant it to be earlier. He slept better than he could remember for years.

###

His arms felt empty the next morning when he woke. Instantly alert, he sat up, hand going straight for his crossbow on the nightstand. "Beth?" When she didn't answer, he hopped out of bed and slid into his jeans as fast as he could, cursing when he caught his shorthairs in the zipper. He shoved his feet into his boots, not bothering with a shirt as he rushed through the first floor.

By the time he discovered she wasn't in the house, he was frantic. He wanted to scream her name when he charged from the house, but feared he might draw in Walkers. If they hadn't already stumbled by and discovered Beth. The door to the garage stood open, and he ran over.

The sweet sight of her rounded cheeks in Daisy Dukes pointed in the air as she bent over the truck's engine did nothing to lessen his worry or rising anger. "Dammit, Beth." He saw her jump as he strode forward and lifted her off. Spinning her around, he shook her a bit roughly. "You damn near gave me a heart attack, girl."

"Ouch." She pulled away, glaring at him. "What's wrong?"

His mouth fell open. "What the hell do ya' think's wrong? I woke up, and you wasn't nowhere to be found. Thought the Walkers got ya'."

Her glower faded, and she touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry I scared you, but you have to give me some credit for having common sense." She pointed to the entry, where he'd automatically stepped over the string of cans she'd placed there. "Walkers won't step over things. I ain't gonna do anything stupid deliberately, okay?" Cupping his face in her hands, she said with quiet intensity, "I got too much to live for to be stupid with my life or his. Okay?"

Daryl slowly nodded, relief leaving him weak. He sagged forward, holding her in his arms in a grip that was probably too tight, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. After all the people he'd lost, losing her was unthinkable. He'd never seen the point of suicide, even with the world gone to hell around him, but the idea of going on without her just about brought him to his knees. Doing something desperate was no longer inconceivable. "Just stay closer, please. I'm old, and my heart can't take too much of that."

Beth kissed his cheek. "I'll try to do better. Should've left you a note, I guess." Her hand ghosted down the front of his pants. "And you don't feel old, lover."

He blushed like an idiot. "What're ya' doin' out here anyway?"

She wrapped her arm through his, pulling him with her to the truck. "Just making some repairs." Beth hopped back onto the bumper to lean in with her wrench, clearly not hampered by the slight baby belly yet. Bemused, he watched her tinker around before sliding down to land lightly on the balls of her feet. "Start 'er up."

Amused by her confidence, he went around to the driver's side and climbed in. She must have found the keys, because they hung in the ignition. Daryl turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Impressed, and feeling a bit sheepish that he'd underestimated her, he left the truck to join her by the hood. "Damn, girl, what'd you do?"

"Fixed it, is all." She shrugged. "Didn't need much, and I found a five-gallon gas can that was mostly full. Fuel smelled okay, and the truck seems to like it. We have transportation again—thank goodness, 'cause my foot is killing me."

"Oh, I can help with that, Bethie." He swung her into his arms, pulling her close for a deep kiss before carrying her back to the house. After depositing her in a chair in the kitchen, he started throwing together something for breakfast. "Give yer foot a chance to heal a couple days, and we'll go out for a supply run."

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I wanna go to a bookstore or somethin'. Get some pregnancy books."

He nodded, knowing it was information they'd both need to learn, especially if it ended up being just the two of them by the time little Dixon came. "In the meantime, you stay on your ass and let that foot rest."

Rolling her eyes, she snapped off a smart salute. "Yes, Mr. Dixon." With a sly look, she asked, "Think I should get bed rest?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."

"Maybe I could use a chaperone. Don't want to get out of bed without permission."

The sultry look she was giving him made his jeans too tight in about a millisecond. "Guess I could rearrange my busy schedule ta' make sure you don't get bored."


	5. Last Man Standing

Beth's foot was healed enough by the end of the week to attempt a supply run. The nearest town was about five miles away and had once had a population of three thousand, according to the sign telling them they were entering Roseburg. Daryl parked drove until he found a strip of several shops near the courthouse and a small library. Together, the searched each of the stores, dispatched some stray Walkers, and found a few useful things that went into the back of the truck.

Beth was disappointed to find no bookstore. The small rack of books in the ransacked general store—which had yielded two cases of formula surprisingly, just in case she had problems with breastfeeding—had contained one lone book about pregnancy and infant care that looked older than her.

They went to the library last, finding a Walker librarian pinned under a fallen bookshelf, the books scattered around it. They appeared to be psychology and self-help books, so it didn't matter that most ended up sprayed with black fluid when Beth drove her knife through the back of its head.

They found one more Walker in the romance section, still clutching the last bestseller Nora Roberts would ever produce. Daryl stabbed her in the head, and they moved on to the sections Beth wanted to browse. In no time, she'd filled her backpack with baby and pregnancy books, along with a couple of fiction novels she grabbed from a rack in passing. Daryl wanted to check out books about self-sufficiency, so she went with him to that area. To their dismay, it was already picked clean. He took the two remaining books, though they didn't look promising.

"Seems wrong to take books from the library," commented Beth, as they neared the main doors.

He shrugged. "Don't matter now, girl."

She nodded. "I know, but it just don't feel right. My momma used to take me to the library once a week, and we'd spend hours there. Shawn always complained about going, and Maggie always knew just what she wanted, so she didn't see the need to linger. It was just special time for Momma and me." Sighing, she rubbed her stomach absently. "Always thought I'd do the same with my little ones."

"Never spent much time in libraries." Daryl held the door for her, just like a true gentleman, but ruined the effect by squeezing her breast gently as she slipped by him. "Not much use, and there wouldn't nothin' to steal, so Merle and I didn't hang out there."

Her heart ached for the crappy childhood he'd lived, but she knew better than to express any pity for him. Even as close as they were becoming, Daryl could still be really touchy about his past, and especially his brother. "Maybe we can find somewhere to settle long-term and make our own library." She took Daryl's grunt as one of agreement.

That evening, Daryl set up a bath for them in the kitchen. The tub was a repurposed stock tank they'd found at a farm supply store on the outskirts of town. Hauling the buckets to fill the tub appeared to be hot, strenuous work, but he refused to allow her to help. Beth was still feeling overheated as she watched him make multiple trips. He'd stripped down to just his jeans, and his bulging, sweaty muscles and glistening tanned skin were leaving her breathless, with her face flushed.

As he poured the last of the water they weren't heating into the tank, he looked at her and frowned. "You feelin' okay, Beth? You look hot."

She fanned her face. "I was just thinking the same about you, lover." Giggling, she checked the three pots for bubbles. "Water's boiling." She didn't protest when he gently pushed her aside to pour the last round of boiling water into the tub, knowing his Neanderthal tendencies sprang from concern for her and the baby.

She dipped her wrist in the water, finding it a little on the warm side, but not enough to ask Daryl to bring in another bucket to cool it down. They shed their clothes and squeezed in together. It was a snug fit, but she didn't mind. Daryl didn't seem to either, judging by the hardness pressing against her thigh.

After bathing, which took longer because of certain needs they had to address, she got out the scissors and gave Daryl a badly needed haircut. When she was done, he looked like the Daryl she remembered from the time in the prison, when grooming was easier. "Much better."

He nodded. "Don't block my eyes no more neither."

"I did like running my fingers through all that extra hair." She caressed the strands. "Especially liked holding onto them when your head was…down south."

Daryl growled, pulling her down onto his lap. "You keep talkin' like that, and you're gonna end up on the table with yer legs spread."

She giggled. "That sounds like fun, and I wanna try that someday, but I need a haircut more."

He lifted a brow. "You need a haircut more than this?" He stroked her lightly between the legs as he asked the question.

Beth squirmed to escape his arousing touch. "Yeah. Can you cut it for me?"

He looked skeptical. "Ain't never done that before. Don't think it'd look good."

She shrugged. "I'm just tired of having to deal with it. I want to lop it off."

He sounded scandalized. "You can't cut yer hair. It's beautiful."

Smiling, she snuggled against him. "Thank you, but it don't look beautiful right now. It's too hard to take care of. I need something short and practical." She could feel him shaking his head, his chin brushing the top of her head.

"You keep your hair long, and I promise you a bath at least once a week."

Beth lifted her head. "How about a compromise? I'll keep it shoulder-length instead of cutting it to my ears."

He started to nod, and then paused. "You know what, girl? It's your hair. You do what you wanna with it. I ain't got no business tellin' you how to wear it. I'm gonna l…like you whether your hair is long, short, or completely gone."

His epiphany warmed her, and she rewarded him with a kiss. "You gonna cut it for me then?"

He snorted. "You might be better off with a weed whacker, but I'll try."

To his surprise, it looked pretty good when he'd finished. Beth touched the short strands that fell just below her ears, deciding she liked it. "I never had short hair before."

"It looks good." He bent down to kiss the back of her neck. "I can see some real advantages to it too, baby." Daryl wound his hand through the shorter strands. "And there's still enough to grab hold of when I'm takin' you from behind."

Pretending to be offended, but secretly delighted with his dirty talk, she smacked his shoulder playfully. "You're a pervert, Daryl Dixon."

"A dirty old man," he said with a leer, but there seemed to be a hint of seriousness behind his words.

Placing a hand on his cheek, she asked, "You aren't really bothered by the age difference, are ya'?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Sometimes. I worry 'bout what the others will think when we find 'em. Think about it ain't fair to you, since I'll die a long time before you do. You deserve better than some incontinent old bastard pissin' his pants and tyin' you down."

Beth's heart warmed at the way he'd worded his fears, with the certainty they would find their family again. "I could be dead tomorrow, Daryl. I ain't meant for this world the way you are. It brings out the best in you. Me, I'm more of a hindrance. I'm trying to be strong and take care of myself, but we both know I need you to protect me. Odds are real good you'll be the last man standing in this relationship, not me."

He shook his head, his eyes showing his pain. "I can't lose you."

She hugged him. "That's how I feel. I can't lose you either, Daryl. I don't care how old you are. It doesn't matter anymore." Kissing his jawline, she added, "I gotta admit I would have noticed you even if the Walkers hadn't ended the world. I would've seduced you."

Daryl's mood seemed to have lightened a bit. "Your daddy woulda run me off with a shotgun."

She shook her head. "Nah, I don't think so. He liked you, Daryl. Respected you. I think he'd be happy for us. Besides, he was fourteen years older than my momma."

His shoulders sagged. "I'd like ta' think Herschel would approve of us, Bethie. Don't think no one else will though." Pretending to shudder, he said, "Maggie's gonna be pissed. She might kick my ass."

"You can take her."

His lips twitched. "Can't take her, but I can take you." And he did several times that night.


	6. Reunions

After more than two weeks together in their new home, Beth was starting to forget how bad it could be on the road. The mortuary had become a home for them. She wasn't dropping her guard, and she'd never be naïve enough again to believe that any place was truly safe, or might last forever, but she was hopeful that they could stay where they were for a while, at least until the baby came.

They had spent the last several days hunting, because Daryl wanted to have as many supplies on hand as possible. He'd found a small generator at one of the neighbors'—if you counted two miles away a neighbor—and planned to pair it with a large dehydrator he'd found on one of their supply runs to a town farther out than Roseburg.

So far, they'd managed to bag a lot of small game, but he was tracking a large deer today. Beth was doing her best to move quietly with him, paying special attention to stepping where he stepped, which meant she was studying the ground closely. They'd been following it for more than an hour when they stopped at a place where the leaves were moved around.

"Tell me what happened here, Beth."

She leaned closer, studying the hoof prints, before picking out some footprints. Blood spatter dotted the area, and there was clear indication something heavy had been dragged away. "It looks like someone got to our deer before us."

"Yep." He lowered the crossbow he'd kept aloft. "Can you tell me anything about the people who killed our deer?"

She studied the footprints. "Looks like three different sets. Definitely an adult man, but it's hard to say if the smaller prints are two older kids or smaller adults." Leaning closer, excitement flickered in her stomach. "Daryl, these prints are Carl's. I remember the thunderbolts carved into the soles. I teased him about him wearing Thor's boots." With a grin, recalling how red his face had gotten, she stood upright. "C'mon. We can catch up with them if we hurry."

"Beth, it could be anyone's—"

She waved away his attempt at being reasonable. Yeah, it could be anyone, but she just _knew_ it was Carl and Rick. The other set of footprints could belong to Lizzie or one of the smaller adults from the prison. Maybe Michonne, but probably not Maggie. Her sister had big feet, and lord, how Beth used to love teasing her about them when her older sister was an insecure teenager. The thought caused sadness to well, but she swallowed it down to focus on the task at hand.

Daryl caught up with her, making her move more cautiously, despite her impatience. The dragged deer carcass provided an easy trail to follow, even for the novice Beth, and they tracked them for a couple of miles before catching sight of a tent.

She bounced on her feet. "It's them. It just has to be."

"Could be, but we ain't rushin' into someone's camp like a couple o' fools, Beth. Let's move slow and cautious. Check 'em out first."

With a sigh of impatience, she nodded, knowing he was right. That didn't make it any easier to wait as they slowed and crept carefully closer. Daryl lowered some branches that obscured their vision, and she squealed with happiness at the sight of Michonne skinning the deer hung from the tree.

Her friend had grabbed her katana and was swinging in Beth's direction as she charged toward her. Thankfully, she had plenty of time to recognize her, with Daryl bringing up the rear, and lower the weapon. Though she was covered with deer guts, Beth didn't hesitate to launch herself at Michonne and give her a tight squeeze. "I knew it was you. Well, I knew it was Carl. I recognized his shoe prints."

"Beth?" Michonne pulled back a bit to stare at her face, seeming to be in shock. They hugged again as Rick and Carl came tearing back into camp.

"What's going on, Michonne?"

At the sound of Rick's voice, Beth turned to him and threw herself into his arms for a big hug. "You guys are alive."

He patted her awkwardly, seeming to have trouble wrapping his brain around the turn of events. As Beth moved on to hug Carl, who must have grown at least two more inches, she saw Rick and Daryl exchanging hugs. The sight made her want to cry, and she sniffed hard.

Another round of hugs was in order before anyone felt like sitting down or discussing what had happened to them. Beth listened as Rick and Michonne talked about where they'd been, and how they had survived. She frowned upon hearing Rick thought some group was tracking them because he'd had to kill one of their members.

"We'll work on fortifyin' our place," said Daryl. "With you guys to help me, we can put in some serious defenses. Metal gates, stone walls, whatever we can scavenge."

"Yeah, I ain't much help." She sent him a loving look. "I could do more, but Daryl won't let me."

As one, Rick and Michonne both glanced at her protruding stomach, the question in their eyes. "Not Zach's," she said with a shrug. Deliberately, Beth scooted closer, putting her hand on Daryl's thigh to claim ownership.

Carl frowned fiercely, but didn't say anything.

Rick glared at Daryl. "How long's this been going on, Daryl?"

"Long enough to have a baby comin'."

Beth giggled at his succinct answer. "Look, guys, I appreciate your concerns, but the age difference don't matter, and Daryl sure didn't manipulate me 'cause I'm young and dumb or something. I'm old enough to know what I want, and Daryl's pretty immature, so it works."

"Hey, girl, you're gonna pay for that," he growled softly, but his lips were twitching.

Michonne nodded once. "God knows there is little enough to be happy about these days. Take what you can where you can." Her gaze softened as it returned to her stomach. "Never thought I'd see the day when there'd be a little Dixon running around."

Daryl snorted. "You 'n me both."

Beth cuddled closer. "You're going to be a great dad. You was so good with Judith."

Rick and Carl wore similar pained expressions at the mention of her name. He asked, "Do you know what happened to my baby, Beth?"

She shook her head. "We got separated in the aftermath of The Governor's attack. I'd hoped she would be with you." Tears welled from her eyes and slipped down her face.

"She's dead," said Carl with firm conviction. "No baby could survive this shithole, and maybe she's better off."

Beth gasped and pressed against Daryl, who patted her shoulder gently. "You don't know that, Carl. Little Asskicker was sure to be rescued by someone at the prison. She's probably safe and snug somewhere right now." Daryl's intensity matched Carl's. "We _are_ gonna find her, along with everyone else we lost." Beth saw him catch her yawn, and he added, "But first, we're gonna take you guys home and let everyone rest up."

They trekked back to the truck, deer in tow, and drove to their home. Beth spent a little bit of time showing them around before leaving them to decide which rooms they wanted. Carl took the attic space, clearly wanting some privacy after all his time on the road with his dad and Michonne. Beth raised one eyebrow when she saw Michonne drop her and Rick's gear side by side on the same bed in one of the upstairs rooms, but didn't say anything. It wasn't her business, and she had no objections.

She was happy for them. Lori had been dead for several months now, and who didn't know the marriage had pretty much died months before that, the night Rick had been forced to kill Shane, and Lori had recoiled from him when he'd needed her most? If Michonne gave him some happiness, he deserved it. Michonne certainly deserved to find happiness, and she seemed to have made a new little family with Rick and Carl. Beth didn't imagine it could ever replace Andre, but it probably did provide a bit of succor from the hurt.

###

They divided their days between making their new home more secure, gathering supplies, and searching for their friends in shifts and ever-widening circles. The truck made it easier. Beth was hanging laundry on a line the afternoon Carl and Daryl returned with Sasha, Maggie, and Bob in the back. She'd been ecstatic to see her other friends, but the reunion with Maggie surpassed everything.

She dropped the drawers she'd been hanging and ran to meet the truck. Maggie climbed down, and they were hugging and laughing and crying just like they'd never thought they would see each other again. Beth hadn't expressed her doubts aloud, even to Daryl in the middle of the night, but she'd begun to think they wouldn't, so she was overwhelmed with joy to see Maggie again.

When they finally took a step apart, Maggie must have finally realized Beth was pregnant. Her eyes widened, and she looked aghast. "Bethany Ann Greene, what the hell is that?"

"It's a baby." It was hard not to squirm and act like a kid when Maggie took that tone.

"But how?"

Beth cocked her head. "You're a married woman, so I'm betting you know the answer to that."

Maggie looked steaming mad. "You told me Zach never did more than kiss you. You swore he was a complete gentleman."

"He was." She caught Daryl's gaze, reading the uncertainty there. He obviously didn't know what she wanted him to do. With a soft smile in his direction that hardened her resolve and pushed away the guilty kid feelings, she said, "My baby's father ain't no gentleman."

Rick, who had just returned from where he was putting in metal fencing around the south side, snorted with laughter. "You can say that again." He clapped Daryl on the shoulder as he walked by to greet Sasha and Bob, obviously realizing Maggie wasn't in a chatty mood right then.

Maggie turned her head to stare hard at Carl. "Was it you?"

Carl put up his hands, his face beet red. "Ain't me. I never…" He broke off and turned to follow his father.

Daryl stepped up beside Beth, putting his hand on her burgeoning belly. "It's mine, Maggie. Just like Beth is mine, and I'm hers. You got a problem with that, you take it up with me, but don't be badgerin' her when she's in this condition."

Maggie's cheeks were flushed, and she'd balled her hands into fists. "You're the one who got her into this condition, and you must've been carryin' on at the prison, 'cause she is very fucking pregnant."

"Twenty-one weeks," confirmed Beth.

Maggie looked fearful when she turned back to her sister. "You can't do this, Beth. I can't watch you die."

The anger she'd been feeling toward her sister faded away at the reminder of what Maggie had gone through with Lori. Stepping closer, gently disengaging Daryl's hold, she hugged her big sister again. "I ain't goin' to die. You and Daryl are too danged stubborn to let that happen, and so am I. I'll be around forever, until you're sick of seein' me."

###

A couple of weeks later, Beth and Michonne were digging in the front garden when she spotted figures moving toward them. On autopilot, she reached for the shotgun Daryl had given her after he and Rick lucked out and found a cache somewhere. The group that might or might not be hunting Rick hadn't made an appearance in their lives for the last six weeks they'd all been together at the house, but no one was going to discount the possibility.

Michonne held her sword at half-mast as they got up—Beth a little less gracefully than usual at twenty-four weeks—and they inched closer to the metal fence acting as the perimeter of their yard. "It's Tyrese," said Michonne, sounding surprised. "Sasha, come quick. It's Tyrese," she called as loudly as she could as she hurried forward to open the gate.

Beth walked a bit more slowly behind Michonne, her heart lightening at the sight of Sasha's brother. Then a sharp pang shot through her chest when she saw Carol. She didn't want to dread seeing the other woman. Carol had always been kind to her, and sometimes like a substitute mother. Still, she couldn't help the negative reaction, wondering how Daryl would feel when he saw Carol. How would Carol react when she found out about them? She knew their relationship was supposedly platonic, but what if there were unresolved or unspoken feelings between them that the absence brought to the surface?

A/N: Probably another three chapters to go until the story is finished. Thanks for hanging in there.


	7. Claiming

Daryl came running at the sound of the ruckus in the front yard. He skidded to a stop at the sight that met his eyes. Tyrese holding Sasha; Rick cuddling Judith, while Carl and Beth pressed close to his side; and Carol, standing just a bit apart from Maggie, Michonne, and Bob. He was running before he knew it and scooped her into a hard hug. "Missed you, girl."

She hugged him back just as hard. "I missed you too, Daryl."

Daryl saw Beth watching them from the corner of his eye, gnawing on her lip the way she did when she was nervous. He eased away from his best friend carefully. "How're you doin'? Y'all hurt or anythin'?"

"To my soul, but I'll live." She followed when he moved closer to Rick. Little Asskicker gave him a big grin and reached for him. Pleased she hadn't forgotten him, he picked her up and cradled her close. Wonder swept over him as he realized he'd be holding his own kid just like this in another sixteen weeks or so.

She patted his cheek and said, "Dada."

Daryl shook his head as Rick flinched. "Nah, I'm Daryl. Can you say Daryl?"

"Dada," she said again.

"Don't take it personal, Rick," said Tyrese. "She's been callin' me Dada for a while now. The other day, we happened to see a cow in a field, and she called it Dada too."

Rick still looked pained, but laughed with the others.

Daryl passed the baby to her big brother and moved closer to Beth. To his consternation, she moved away in what seemed like a deliberate motion. Frowning, he turned a bit back toward Carol. "You talked to Rick yet?"

She shook her head, grimacing. "I'm not looking forward to that, but I figure he can cram his self-righteousness down his pie hole since I kept his baby safe."

Daryl gave her a crooked grin. "I told him he was wrong 'bout you."

She smiled. "Thanks. I'm glad someone supported me."

He sighed. "Imagine others would've too, but it wasn't too long after he left ya' that all hell broke loose. You's lucky to have missed that."

Her eyes seemed haunted. "I had plenty of my own tragedies to deal with, but I'm glad I didn't have to see Herschel die." She shot a glance at Beth and Maggie, who stood near Tyrese. "How're they handling it?"

He lifted his shoulder. "Some days are okay, but both girls have rough times. Nightmares and such."

Carol sighed sadly as her gaze focused on Beth's stomach. "It's too bad Zach never knew about the baby."

"He didn't need to."

She seemed surprised. "I'll be the first to admit sometimes a kid's better off with no father than someone like Ed, but Zach seemed like a good kid."

Daryl nodded. "He was, but he isn't the father."

Her mouth formed an O of surprise. "Rape?" she whispered, looking fit to kill.

Daryl swore his balls shrank just a bit into his body at the look she flashed. If she was intent on punishing whoever defiled Beth, what would she do to him? Especially if he ever worked up the nerve to tell her exactly how it had happened? "No. It was—"

"Congratulations, Daryl," called Tyrese across the small crowd. He stood by Beth and had his hand on her stomach. "You're gonna be a heckuva daddy."

Carol gasped softly. "You?" There was maybe a hint of hurt in her gaze, but more anger than anything.

He nodded. "I love her." With a start, he realized he'd never actually said that to Beth and had a feeling she'd be really pissed if she knew he'd told Carol before her. "Just need to tell her that sometime."

"She's awful young."

He nodded, having no argument for a valid fact.

"She love you?" At his nod, she smiled. "If you was any other man diddling with that young woman, I'd probably gut you. Since I know you, I know what's in your heart, and you aren't ever gonna hurt her. Not deliberately." She leaned forward to hug him again before walking over to Beth.

Daryl held his breath as she reached his woman, whose eyes shone with a hint of apprehension and a dose of jealousy. She seemed stunned when Carol hugged her, and then awkwardly hugged her back. They exchanged a few soft words, and then Beth hugged her tightly, just as she had every other person they'd been reunited with during the past few weeks.

Walking over to join them, he had a good feeling that things would be okay. Glenn and the other stragglers would turn up soon. They'd stay here as long as they could, build as stable a life as one could in a world like this, and be happy. Most importantly, he'd keep Beth and the rest of his family safe.

###

From a safe distance, Joe nodded with satisfaction. "Yeah, there's the bastard that killed Lou. I claim his life, and when I'm done, I claim the woman with short hair. She looks tough as nails. Should be fun taming her." Licking his lips obscenely, he passed the binoculars around, allowing each man in his group to see the prizes before them.

Billy had second choice, since he'd saved Joe's ass two towns back. "I claim the tall brunette. Bet she fucks real good."

Harley took the binoculars when it was his turn. "I'll take the black one. The dark black one. She looks 'bout as tasty as dark chocolate." He grabbed his crotch and mimicked thrusting. "I'm gonna melt her core."

Tony was next. "I claim the light black girl. I always did prefer milk chocolate." He and Harley chortled together.

Finally, it was Len's turn. "Man, this is bullshit," he said. "All the good'uns are already claimed."

"Rules are rules," said Joe without sympathy. "Who or what do you want?"

"I claim the blonde cutie, though I sure could do without that big fuckin' belly getting in the way of my fun." Still grumbling, he passed the binoculars to Dan. Smirking, he said, "It's slim pickings, pal. All the women are claimed. Guess you could go for a weapon. Looks like the redneck in the leather vest has a nice crossbow."

Dan sneered. "You calling someone a redneck is rich, Len." After scanning a moment, he made a surprising choice. "I'll claim the boy."

Joe looked a little disgusted when he took back the binoculars. "You that desperate?" At Dan's shrug, he also shrugged. "Well, rules are rules. Everyone's staked a claim. If it ain't claimed, kill it, steal it, or do what you will with it."After returning the military binoculars to his rucksack, he sat down on a fallen log in the middle of the clearing where they planned to wait. "We wait 'til night, and then it's payback time."


	8. Hell Breaks Loose

It had been a long day, and Beth was sleepy, but she didn't refuse when Daryl pulled her closer. They made love quickly, though it was still satisfying, and then she curled against his side. "Pretty shocking to have Tyrese and Judith just turn up like that, with Carol."

He murmured something sleepily. "Glad, but wish we knew what'd happened to Glenn and the others. The old people and the kids."

She nodded, twirling her finger around his nipple. "Did you feel anything else besides glad when you saw Carol?"

Daryl grunted and turned on his side, so they were staring at each other. "Relief. Affection. She was my best friend, 'til you."

Her chest felt tight, and she blinked her suddenly burning eyes. "Yeah?"

He nodded, putting his arm around her waist. "You're my best friend now, girl. Lover, everythin' I ever wanted. Never thought I'd get anyone like you. Don't deserve you." Daryl's eyes glistened a bit when he touched his forehead to hers. "I love ya', Beth. Know I don't say it or nothin', but I do."

She grinned. "I know you do. You show me every day. That don't mean I don't like hearing it sometimes too." Pressing closer, she said, "I love you too."

He nodded. "We should get married or somethin'."

To his surprise, and a bit of her own, she shook her head. "Nah, we don't need that. There's no place that could make it official anymore, and I think it'd feel like playacting. What we have is real and more than enough. Don't need something silly like a fake wedding to commemorate it."

He frowned. "You sure you ain't just sayin' that 'cause you think it's what I wanna hear? I'm willin' to put on a monkey suit and make you my bride."

She smiled. "Hmm, the idea of seeing you in a tuxedo is almost enough to sway me, but no. I really don't want any of that." Pressing her palm against his chest, she said, "I have your heart. You have mine. Soon, we'll have a baby. Who needs anything else?"

"Still, I thought all you gals dreamed about big fancy weddings and shit."

Beth giggled. "That was Maggie. She had all the details planned, right down to having a white coach and six horses deposit her at the church." Her mirth faded a bit when she remembered the next step. "Daddy was gonna meet her and walk her in to her husband, who would be handsome, rich, and successful."

He rubbed her back. "Is it 'cause Herschel ain't here to give his blessin' that you don't wanna marry me?"

She shook her head. "Well, maybe a little, but only because I'd miss his presence, not because I need his blessing, or think he'd withhold it from you. It wouldn't feel complete without Daddy there, but I could have someone else give me away, like Rick." Turning serious, she said, "If it's really important to you that I make you an honest man, I'll marry you. I'd do anything for you."

He chuckled, though vulnerability still shone in his gaze. "Aw, hell, girl, I don't care nothin' about weddings or rings."

She frowned sternly. "I never said I didn't want a ring. The first chance you get to find me a huge, gaudy ring, I want it on my finger." Shuddering slightly, she added, "But please don't recycle it from a Walker. I know Glenn did the best he could, but ew."

He curled his lip. "S'pose you expect me to wear a ring too, girl?"

"Of course. Can't have some other post-apocalyptic hussy trying to make off with my man."

Daryl started to respond, but the faint tinkle of broken glass interrupted him. "You hear that?"

She nodded. "Was it a Walker?" Since the rest of the group had finished the fence, they hadn't had any Walkers stumble onto the grounds. Occasionally, she knew they had to go out and take care of clusters in the surrounding area, and there had been a tense moment last week, when a herd had passed, fortunately without taking notice of their home.

He grimaced. "Don't see how. 'Sides, it was awful furtive. Walkers ain't subtle sumbitches." Grabbing his crossbow even before his pants as he swung out of bed, he said, "Someone's up to no good. You ring the bells and then stay put."

As he dressed, Beth went to the cord on the wall. They had devised a system of bells and pulleys in every room of the house that could act as an alarm to alert everyone of possible danger. She clanged them loudly, knowing the advantage of warning the others outweighed the disadvantage of letting whomever breaking in know they had been discovered.

Before taking time to dress, she took her "girlie knife," as Daryl called it, from the nightstand drawer. After putting on maternity yoga pants and a long-sleeve T-shirt, she slid the knife into the sheath Daryl had made for her and clipped it to her waistband. The shotgun was on the bed.

He was dressed and ready to leave, so she grabbed him and clung to him for a long kiss. "You take care of yourself and come back to us."

He nodded. "And you don't do anythin' brave or reckless. Your first job is protectin' him." He rubbed her belly before going to the door, slipping out quietly and closing it. She locked it behind him.

Beth pressed her ear to the door, listening to the sounds of violence. She wanted to open it and see what was going on, but knew it was more reasonable to hide. Yells and screams, set against the background music of broken furniture and shattered glass, carried through the thin wood. She pressed her palm to the door, as though she could touch Daryl and the others by sheer strength of will.

Suddenly, the door thundered against the frame, smacking into the side of her face. Beth reeled back, feeling dizzy, as the wood exploded inward with another solid kick. The light from the lantern they hadn't yet extinguished before all hell broke loose provided enough illumination for her to see a man about Daryl's height standing in the doorway. He had shaggy dark hair, an unkempt beard, and his navy hoodie and cargo pants looked filthy enough to stand up and walk away without him.

His grin was evil personified, and he came toward her menacingly. "Binoculars don't do you justice, little girl. You're a lot tastier in person, even with that fat belly."

His words angered her, and she reacted with that emotion instead of the fear hiding down deeper. "I'm pregnant, you idiot."

He shrugged. "I know that. Cooperate and be a good girl for me, and you might still be pregnant in the morning. Be a real good girl, and I'll let you keep the kid when it comes, if you're still around then. Fight me, and it'll be Walker chow."

She gasped, horrified by his threats, but even more horrified at the idea of letting him touch her. Her hand went for her knife, and she held it out just the way Daryl had taught her, against her forearm with the blade facing outward. "You stay back."

He actually laughed, clearly unimpressed. "You're not being a good girl. What's your name?"

She didn't answer.

He shrugged. "Guess I could call you Redneck Whore, since I saw that old redneck sneaking out of here a few minutes ago."

"Fuck you."

He nodded. "You will, girl. Lots and lots, until I'm tired of you."

He advanced a step, and she moved forward to meet him. As he reached for her, she slashed his face with her knife, making him scream with outrage. Beth tried darting back out of his range, but her shape made her more cumbersome, and she couldn't evade the hand he used to hit her across the side of the head. She fell backward, relieved to land on her butt instead of her belly, and sat staring up at him as he charged toward her.

"I'm gonna kill you and then fuck you, bitch."

"You're a sick piece o' work," drawled a familiar voice from the doorway.

Beth's heart fluttered with relief to see her man still in one piece. "Ain't he, lover?"

The intruder seemed nervous suddenly, as Daryl walked into the room, crossbow at the ready. "Are you the kinda guy who steals from someone else, fucker?" asked Daryl. "'Cause we don't take kindly to thieves, and there's a steep penalty." Glancing at Beth, who was rubbing her head, his expression darkened further. "You put your hands on her and signed your own death warrant, buddy."

Daryl moved suddenly, almost a blur, as he slammed his crossbow into the other man's face, making him drop the gun he'd been holding. Beth darted forward to grab it, opening the chamber to find it empty. "He's a dumb shit too, Daryl. Not a bullet number-one in here."

The intruder feinted toward the right, managing to slash Daryl's left side with a knife at the last second. He hissed with pain, but his grip on the crossbow didn't falter. He backed the other man into the wall, grabbing his collar with one hand while pressing the crossbow to his head. "I'd like to take my time guttin' you and skinnin' you alive, you piece of shit, but I ain't got the time or the stomach for such close work."

Beth came to stand near Daryl, her knife in hand. She saw the shaggy stranger reaching into the pocket of his hoodie for something and acted on instinct. Before he could pull out whatever he was going for, which had to be another weapon, she ran forward and plunged her knife into the side of his head, straight through the temple and into the brain. He didn't even have a chance to scream as he sagged forward. Daryl stepped back, and his corpse dropped to the floor.

"Dammit, Beth, I wanted to kill him. He tried to hurt you."

She grinned, a little shocked by how gleeful murdering that disgusting would-be rapist made her feel. "You're just mad 'cause I took him out with my girlie knife."

He pulled her close, giving her a thorough kiss. "I'll never mock that knife again, baby."

###

In the aftermath, they traded stories of survival. Michonne had cut off the head of the vile trash who'd tried to take her prisoner. Rick, still wiping the blood from his chin, shared a harrowing tale of ripping out the apparent ringleader's throat with his teeth. Maggie had almost had her assailant down when Daryl had shot him with a bolt in passing on his way to rescue Beth—who hadn't really needed much rescuing, he was proud to tell everyone.

Whatever fate he'd had in mind for Sasha, that intruder had met the business end of Tyrese's club and Bob's gun before he could even come near his intended target. She still seemed a bit shaken, and maybe a tad pissed off that she hadn't gotten a chance to defend herself.

Carl was mum about his experience, though he looked pale and haunted. Carol was near him, a reassuring arm around his shoulder. All she said was, "Carl and I handled it." Later, when Beth was standing by waiting to light the fire—because Daryl wouldn't let her drag out bodies or pour embalming fluid, in case she inhaled it—she saw Rick and Tyrese dragging out a big man with a huge, bloody stain on his crotch area. From what little she saw, someone had gone after his genitals with a knife, multiple times. She didn't feel a bit of pity, imagining he had done, or tried to do, something worthy of such a response.

The strangers burned just as well as Walkers, and then they scooped up the ashes and dumped them a few miles down the road. No one wanted the remains on their land, and they weren't worthy of a decent burial of any sort, even sinking their ashes into a dark hole and pissing on it, which had been Daryl's suggestion.

###

It was several days later, and life had returned to its former routine before the invasion, when Bob and Tyrese returned with a lone survivor they had picked up somewhere. Beth recognized the riot gear before her brother-in-law stripped off the helmet, and she was screaming for Maggie.

Maggie came running, looking terrified. "Is it the baby?"

Beth shook her head, pointing at the truck. "It's Glenn."

With a whoop of joy, Maggie ran to her husband, who scooped her into his arms and kissed her passionately. They had little time for reunions with the others as Maggie practically dragged Glenn inside, obviously content to hear his tale of survival later.

Their family was back together again, and soon, there would be a new addition. Beth smiled happily and returned to hanging sheets. For the first time in a while, music poured from her lips, and she gave voice to her joy through song.

A/N: Don't worry. I'll be posting an epilogue in a bit. Can't deny you a glimpse of Daddy Daryl. Also, I don't really like the people Glenn's with in the show, so I jettisoned their butts and just wrote around them. I hope there's no great love for Abraham, et al, among the people reading this little tale.


	9. Double Trouble

"Daryl Dixon, if you ever try to touch me again, I'll get my girlie knife and chop off your balls." Beth squeezed his hand harder and pulled him closer, even as she ranted at him.

"Easy, girl. Just breathe through the pain," he murmured soothingly.

She snorted. "Breathing is bullshit. Some man came up with that idea to shut up his wife…ohhhh…" The curses flew from her mouth, thick and colorful enough to make a sailor blush. Daryl looked like he wanted to grin, but the death glare she shot him must have smothered the urge rather abruptly.

"Take a deep breath, sweetie," said Carol. "Lean forward a bit more to open your pelvis, and just pant him out."

"Okay," she said meekly, adjusting her squatting position to comply with Carol's suggestions.

"The hell? I tell you the same thing, and you yell at me like a banshee." Daryl rolled his eyes, though his hand applying welcome pressure to her lower back never wavered.

"Shh, it ain't about you," chided Maggie.

Daryl grimaced. "I know that, but it's my baby too. We're in this together."

"The fuck we are," said Beth before panting again. "We were in it together right until the first contraction. We'll be back in it together as soon as he's here. In the meantime, I'm the one trying to push this massive Dixon outta my vagina."

Daryl rubbed his ear. "You ain't gotta shout." The twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement, and he stayed right by her side as she continued breathing and pushing slowly.

Beth groaned when the baby crowned. Carol's hands supported his head, and she talked her through the process of easing him out slowly, to keep from ripping. After what seemed like an endless moment of burning pain, his head slipped free, followed by his shoulders. A second later, Carol pulled the rest of him from her body, and soon held up a squalling Dixon boy.

"He's as loud as his mother," said Daryl with a big grin, taking the baby Carol offered him. "Told you he was a boy."

Beth rolled her eyes. "I never argued." Another contraction hit, and she bore down to deliver the placenta with a few slightly easier pushes.

The baby was fussing and nuzzling against Daryl's fingers. "I think he's anxious for some titty, girl."

"It's a good idea," said Carol. "It'll help shrink your uterus faster, and the sooner he starts, the sooner he'll be done."

Daryl let the baby keep his finger wrapped in his fist as he handed him carefully to Beth, who had just lain on the bed with Maggie and Michonne's help. "Shoot, Carol. He's a Dixon. He ain't never gonna be ready to give up the breasts."

Beth giggled, clearly feeling a bit better. "He sure is a Dixon. He looks just like you, Daryl."

Daryl seemed flushed with pride. "He's a handsome devil all right, but he's got yer eyes."

"You think?" She started to peel up an eyelid when another pain hit. "Ouch. How long does this shrinking last, Carol?"

Her impromptu midwife shrugged. "It depends. Nursing makes them more productive, but they hurt worse too."

Another sharp pain hit, and she gasped, dislodging the baby in the process. He squalled as her nipple rolled from his mouth. "Shit. This feels just like labor."

Carol looked concerned. "Daryl, take the baby. Maggie and Michonne, help Beth hold her legs up so I can see what's going on."

Beth grunted with pain when they lifted her legs, and then grunted again when Carol put a hand inside her. "What's wrong? Am I hemorrhaging?"

Carol probed carefully before shaking her head. "Get her back on her feet and squatting, ladies. Beth's about to deliver another one."

"Twins?" asked Daryl, clearly awed.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," said Beth with a moan. She wasn't opposed to two babies. A hundred would be fine, as long as no more of them insisted on exiting her body. Following Carol's directions, she pushed and breathed through several more rounds of contractions.

"Okay, lie back for just a second, Beth. I think he's in the wrong position, so I might need to turn him a bit."

"Breech," whispered Maggie, looking terrified.

Carol nodded, her mask of calm never slipping. "It's okay. I'm pretty confident I know what to do. Women have delivered breech babies for thousands of years before modern obstetrics decided it automatically required a caesarian." Patting Beth's tummy gently, she said, "Worst case scenario is we have to do a caesarian. You know we have all the supplies, including the anesthesia to knock you out, and I've had lots of practice on the Walkers."

Confident in Carol's abilities, Beth was more worried about Maggie than herself. She clung to her sister's hand. "It'll be okay. I'm not goin' to die."

Maggie nodded, though she was pale and clearly barely hanging on.

"Do you want to leave? It's okay if you don't want to be here for this." Maggie shook her head, clinging tighter to her leg. Beth held her breath upon Carol's direction, barely keeping in a scream of pain when the other woman reached into her body with both hands and turned her baby. Daryl was right behind her, their first son clutched to his chest.

"Okay, squat again." Carol smiled. "He's all lined up. Shouldn't give you anymore problems."

"He's a Dixon," grumped Beth. "Bound to be nothing but problems." She bore down and breathed through the pain, which wasn't nearly as bad as it had been a couple of minutes ago. Something shifted, and she could feel her baby sliding down the birth canal. When Carol checked, she confirmed he had crowned. Three more pushes, and little Dixon number-two entered the world.

She was a screamer, with fuzzy blonde hair and eyes just like her father's. Beth delivered the placenta, let Carol see to some tasks, and was soon settled back in bed with her new bundles, Daryl stretched out beside her. "Double trouble," she said with a grin.

He nodded, looking just as pleased, though a bit worried. "I didn't want a girl." Seeing her look of censure, he quickly added, "I'm scared I'll mess her up even worse than a boy or somethin'."

Beth cuddled closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder as she switched out babies to allow her son another chance at nursing. "You aren't goin' to mess up anyone, love. You'll be the best father ever to Jason Herschel and…" She trailed off. "Dang it. We didn't even discuss girls' names."

Daryl blinked. "I didn't give it much thought. Just knew we was havin' a boy."

"I got an idea for a middle name." Beth rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "How about Merlena?"

He snorted. "That's a terrible name to give a baby."

She smiled. "That's why it'll be her middle name. Still need a first though."

"Don't wanna give her the name of someone we lost to Walkers, same as we decided with Jason. We won't forget them people we've lost, but it don't seem right stickin' that kind of burden on a baby."

Beth nodded. "What was your momma's name?"

"Dumbass," he muttered. "Not happenin'. Your momma?"

"Josephine."

He tilted his head to look at the baby in his arms. "You a Josie? Yeah, you kinda look like a Josie Merlena. I'm real sorry 'bout the middle name, but your momma insists." Looking up at her, he said, "And it takes a braver man than me ta' tell your momma no."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I know twins is an overdone trope, but I just couldn't resist.

And the foul language Beth adopts at the end-that's pretty accurate, even if it's overdone. There's a reason for that. Labor freaking hurts.


End file.
